suzalambertbowserblog

What do I know about God?

I paint staring eyes

for myself,

but they can’t pierce the haze

of my own humanity.

(Or anyone else’s for that matter!)

I see me everywhere

in everyone.

I am the old woman, the little baby,

the warrior, the mother, the courtesan, and the nun.

My lips are your lips;

I kneel to the Divine,

“I want to know…

No!

I take it back!

I don’t want to know…”

You, Oh God.

Oh Unkowable Essence.

I cringe and put on purple lipstick

and dye my hair pink

and pout and pray

and sob and wail.

I know nothing about God,

but I think God knows plenty

about me.